i wrote this for morgan but i GUESS other people can read it if they want (it won’t make sense tho). trigger warnings for abuse, manipulation, degradation, etc. all done to ben at the hands of snoke. read at your own risk. i mostly needed to flesh some emotions out for rp purposes.
He is tossed in an unceremonious heap at the Supreme Leader’s feet. His own Knights of Ren kick at the backs of his calves until he’s kneeling, head bowed in reverence, and he doesn’t have it in him to continue his guttural screams of protest.
“As requested, Supreme Leader,” General Hux says, hands clasped behind his back, and Ben can feel the resentment coming off of him in waves.
Hux offers one last, scathing sidelong look after he’s dismissed, his instructions firm but clear: destroy what remains of the Resistance. Ben counts the bootfalls of those who exit: first the general, then the Knights, and then the door hisses closed and he is left alone. He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the floor. His knees ache and his wrists are screaming from fighting against the cuffs. He’s just a man, hollow and debased, bruised across his face and bloody across the back of his skull from the hilt of a blaster. There are unbidden tears in his eyes.
Mom, he thinks, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t when he nearly chokes with the knowledge that she’s...she’s… Rey, comes a moment later. He can’t feel either of them.
“You wonder why I keep a rabid cur in such a place of power?” Snoke, who slithers through his mind like a snake, ignores the misstep of mentioning a name. “Because weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool.”
Ben does not answer. Each breath is shallow a sharp, a wound across his lungs. His gaze is watery. A moment later, his chin is tilted and not of his own volition. He feels the spindly grip of Snoke’s invisible fingers along his jaw. His face is turned this way and that, something that feels like a thumb skimming the tender skin below his cheek, and he grits his teeth against the sensation.
“How’s your wound?”
He doesn’t know what to say. Surely the Supreme Leader must see that it’s long since healed?
“It’s nothing,” he mutters.
That is not the answer Snoke wants. Ben’s face is shoved away with a violent Force, the base of his skull snapping against his neck, and it takes every ounce of strength not to fall back against the floor of the throne room. He finally lifts his eyes to see the Supreme Leader stalking toward him. Ben, not for the first time, feels a scratching at the base of his skull. Shadows are slithering there, thick and oily, and he is thinking of his mother. The emotions she’d felt before...before…
Anger. Fear. Regret. The resolute knowledge of what was to come and accepting one’s fate.
My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry.
Ben makes a noise at the back of his throat. It sounds like a sob.
“The mighty Kylo Ren,” Snoke is close enough now that Ben can hear the ragged way with which he breathes. He’s always been broken, ugly, weak in body but never in the Force. “When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see. Raw, untamed power. And beyond that, something truly special. The potential of your bloodline. A new Vader.”
He knows he’s trembling. Snoke reaches out again, this time with his true hand, and Ben feels his fingers brush through his hair. He shuts his eyes against the touch and tries to focus on anything other than the bile at the back of his throat.
My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry --
Snoke tugs on his hair, forcing his head back until so he can better study Ben’s features. “Now I fear I was mistaken.”
The roots of his hair groan in protest. A single tear rolls down his cheek now, saltwater stinging the fresh would left by the viroblade of one of his Knights.
“I’ve given everything I have to you,” Ben protests. He resists the urge to bring his own hands up, to claw at the Supreme Leader’s wrist, or maybe tilt his head and bite down on the tender skin. He wants to tug and tug with his teeth until skin is torn away from bone. “To the dark side.”
Snoke’s hollow gaze narrows. Ben can feel it, even if he still refuses to look at him. The cuffs fall free of his wrists. He hardly notices.
“You have too much of your father’s heart in you, Young Solo.”
“I killed Han Solo.” The words rush out, unbidden and quick, and he wishes he could clamp his lips together and hold his tongue. When he finally lifts his gaze, he knows he’s made a mistake. He’s choking on his own pride, his grief, on the quiet, childlike Mom? he’d echoed back to Leia with his thoughts right before he felt the tender cord that connected them snap in half, and the horrifying scream that had followed. It had taken so long to realize it was his own. “When the moment came, I didn’t hesitate.”
“And look at you. The deed split your spirit to the bone,” Snoke yanks, hard, and Ben is hauled to his feet so gracelessly that he doesn’t realize he’s hovering, kept afloat by Snoke’s grasp on his hair. His toes barely skim the ground. He reaches out to steady himself and is rewarded only with his fingers grappling uselessly at coarse, golden robes. “You were unbalanced, bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber!”
Ben screams at that, angry and feral, but not because of the pain. It registers vaguely, a dull ache compared to previous things he’s suffered at the hands of Snoke. This hurt is one that throbs all the way down to his soul. Rey, he thinks again, and the shadows in his mind flood forward. His memories are no longer his own. The Supreme Leader is raking through them, fingernails scratching down rose-colored thoughts of easy smiles, familial closeness, and carefree laughter. The image of Rey in his mind’s eye is swallowed in the darkness.
Another string of thoughts, harsh and cold: Where is she? Didn’t she feel his panic? Doesn’t she know that he is back within Snoke’s grasp? Why can’t he feel her coming for him?
And then: She is not coming.
“You failed!” Snoke insists.
She is not coming, he thinks again, and Ben is too far gone under the darkness flooding his mind to realize the voice is not his own. Why would she come for you? It croons, malicious and familiar. Did you think she would love you? You? A terrifying laugh, and Ben is crumbling under the conflicting physical pain of Snoke’s angry hold on his hair and the smothering sense of being crushed alive as he feels the shadows sink into the folds of his mind. She could never love you. You’re a monster.
This time, Ben feels a surge of energy rise up from his toes. It builds and builds, horrible and suffocating, and the room shakes when he screams again. There’s a flicker of something on Snoke’s face that looks a lot like fear, and then he is tossed away like a ragdoll. It’s harsh enough that he feels his muscles jolt in protest when he tries to lift himself up and off the ground.
“Skywalker lives!” Snoke bellows. Ben is more than aware his entire body is trembling again when he looks up to meet his gaze. “The seed of the Jedi Order lives. So long as it does, hope lives in the galaxy.”
Snoke turns, striding back to his throne, and Ben follows the trail of his robes, eyelids fluttering. The shadows are sinking into his mind with long, sharp talons. They’re taking root.
My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry.
His heart is beating so quickly he wonders if it will tear its way through his ribcage.
He also wonders if that would hurt less than the way he can feel it tearing itself in two.
She is not coming.
“Alas,” Snoke stops in front of his throne and reaches for something. It’s heavy and solid in his hands. “You are no Vader.”
He stands, finally, and ignores the way his ribs groan. Bones are splintering further with each breath he takes. When Snoke turns, it is with a smile. It hooks into the curves of his face with sinister severity, but he is no longer afraid. Snoke holds the helmet in both hands, angles it this way and that, just as he had his apprentice’s face, and regards it with some admiration.
“You’re just a child,” Snoke continues, “in a mask.”
And the horrible, eyeless prison is tossed at his feet with a deafening clang. He waits for one heartbeat and then another, and then Ren slowly bends at the waist to retrieve it.
When he slides it into place over his head, the voice inside of his mind welcomes him home.
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